


Life Through Poetry

by roseforthethorns



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, M/M, Tags In Each Chapter, poetry prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 09:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: Based on the Poetry Prompt Table for the 007 fest.





	Life Through Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depression manifests differently for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank timetospy enough. She helped me work through my ideas here, and I credit her with that and with most of James's dialogue. Thank you, my friend.
> 
> Tags: depression, poor self care, hurt/comfort
> 
>  
> 
> “The Rainy Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
> 
> The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;  
> It rains, and the wind is never weary;  
> The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,  
> But at every gust the dead leaves fall,  
> And the day is dark and dreary.
> 
> My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;  
> It rains, and the wind is never weary;  
> My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,  
> But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,  
> And the days are dark and dreary.
> 
> Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;  
> Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;  
> Thy fate is the common fate of all,  
> Into each life some rain must fall,  
> Some days must be dark and dreary.

“Two on your left, three more fifteen feet ahead and advancing.”

“I see them.”

“The room on your right is just storage. You’re looking for the door marked ‘Private’.”

“Aren’t we all looking for that?”

“Prat.”

“Oh come now, Q.”

“Please pay attention, 007. I would like you bring you home in one piece.”

“Understood. Entering the room now.”

“007? Report. I no longer have eyes on you. Repeat, I can’t-”

_ Bang _ .

_ Bang. Bang. _

“I have visual again. Well done, 007. Your rendezvous with the contact will be in six hours. Make sure you’re there.”

“Understood, Q.”

***

_ Three Days Later… _

“Welcome home, 007.”

“What, no kiss?” James teases as he sets his kit on Q’s desk. It’s all there this time, and he waits patiently as Q checks everything over. James watches Q closely, frowning slightly when he sees how dark the circles are under Q’s eyes. He looks paler than usual, and his cardigan seems a little big on him. Well, bigger than normal. “Are you alright?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. And it looks like your kit is in order. You might actually have saved us money this time. I won’t have to replace your firearm for once.” Q locks the kit away in his desk and gathers his coat. “You’ll want an umbrella. It’s supposed to rain later,” he mutters before striding out of his office, leaving James to follow.

***

The first thing James sees when he steps in their flat is that the kitchen table is clear. For the past six months it has been buried beneath bits of tech and half assembled projects, but it’s completely clear now. And clean too. “Q?”

Q walks past him into the flat, hanging up his coat and scarf before setting his shoes in the tray. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“The table’s clear.”

“So? I sorted. I had some time after you cleared out the cartel.”

“Q. What happened.”

Q begins picking at his fingernails and staring at his shoes. “Nothing happened. Make sure you hang your coat up.”

James does, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Q. “Then why are you cleaning? You usually shout my head off if I so much as move a nut three inches to the left.”

“You’re always on me to sort. So I did. There’s a whole shelving unit in my office with labeled bins and everything.”

James’s eyes widen in surprise. “As much as I appreciate it darling, this isn’t like you at all. Is everything alright?”

“You almost didn’t come home.” It’s soft, barely a whisper, but everything clicks then. “And it was my fault. I wasn’t fast enough and didn’t have all their cameras. Something in their system. And then I couldn’t see you. And I heard the shots before I could find you.”

James’s gaze softens and he pulls Q into a tight hug. “Oh Simon. There wasn’t anything you could have changed, darling. Nothing. None of it was your fault, and I made it home, didn’t I? Safe as houses.”

“But for five seconds you  _ were _ . And all I see when I close my eyes is you dead on the floor.”

“But I’m not. I’m right here.”

It takes five minutes for Q to begin to relax in his arms. James doesn’t let go for a second, even when he feels the tension start to drain from his lover. It’s been a long time since Q’s depression last surfaced, nearly a year now, but the signs are all there. He most likely hasn’t slept in seventy-two hours, not since the scare. His clothes look big because he hasn’t eaten in days, and the flat is clean because he’s spent every waking second working on it. James has a hunch that if he went through their drawers he would find everything pressed and folded, even their socks.

So he gently scoops Q into his arms and carries him to their bedroom. He makes short work of their clothes and then lays down with Q in his arms once more; Q feels so cold to the touch. James runs his hands all over Q’s body, slowly, reassuring, while trying to warm him.

Q begins to shiver; he must be coming down from his mania. James tries to warm him with the skin-to-skin contact, but after ten minutes Q can’t stop shaking.

“All right. Bath time.”

***

The bathroom is foggy with all the steam from the bath. James washes them both, using a flannel to help soothe Q and bring him back. He can hear rain pattering against the windows as they soak in the tub. “You were right about the forecast. Lucky we got back when we did. You’re like a cat when you get wet.”

No reaction. There’s a small ache in James’ chest now, a little knot of worry. He focuses on Q’s hair, working water through it with his fingers. Q’s eyes flutter closed, and he gives a soft sigh. “That’s nice,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Q nods and nuzzles James, breathing him in for another moment. Then his stomach growls.

“I think it’s a night for soup. Will you eat a cheese toastie if I make them?”

“Maybe.”

“I need a yes or no, Simon.”

“If you feed me.”

“I can do that. Come on.”

James helps Q dry off and gives him one of his undershirts to wear with Q’s flannel pyjama bottoms. James pulls on a pair of bottoms himself and leads the way into the kitchen.

“Can I have a drink?”

“Not until you’ve eaten. No scotch on an empty stomach. Eat your dinner though, and I’ll even pour.”

“Fine,” Q grumbles as he sits at the table.

James chuckles and pulls a few cans of tomato soup from the cupboard. He pours them into a pot on the stove and sets about to make a few toasties. He touches Q whenever he can, a hand on his shoulder or in his hair, a kiss pressed to his temple, anything to remind Q that James really is here.

Dinner is eaten on the sofa, both of them sipping their soup out of mugs while James feeds Q bites of toastie. “It’s even better dipped in the soup, you know.”

Q raises an eyebrow but nods. So James dips the next bite into the soup and gently feeds it to Q. Q nods and lets him do that a few more times. James worries his suspicion about Q’s appetite was right, because Q even tries to lick the mug clean. He has to make a mental note to have Eve check on Q more when he’s away on missions. “Well done, Simon.”

“May I have a scotch now, please?”

“Of course, darling.” James had already brought the bottle and the glasses through with dinner, so it’s easy to pour Q a double and hand him the glass. He watches Q drain it all in one go, his face twisting at the sting of the alcohol before he holds the glass out again. James pours him another and this time Q sips it slowly while leaning against James. James resumes his earlier touch therapy.

“Hand in my hair helps.”

James looks down to find Q staring up at him, green eyes filled with pain. He runs a hand through Q’s hair, and Q shivers, but not from the cold this time. James continues to pet him until Q’s glass is empty. “Do you want more?”

“No.” Q sits up a little and takes James’s face in his hands. James meets his gaze and wraps his arms securely around Q.

“I’m here. Safe as houses, remember?”

Q nods slowly and closes the distance between them, kissing James. It’s the first kiss since James had left for the mission a week earlier. James lets Q lead, lets him take what he needs. It’s fierce for a few moments, a desperate slide of tongues with Q gripping his shoulders tight enough to bruise, but after a few minutes it eases to gentle kissing, and Q guides one of James’s hands back into his hair.

It’s raining harder outside when Q finally pulls back; his eyes are drooping and he yawns wide enough to make his jaw crackle. James smiles fondly and stands, Q in his arms, and carries him to bed. Thunder rumbles in the distance as James pulls the weighted blanket from the cupboard and lays it over them both. He gathers Q close and kisses his forehead. “Sleep, Simon.”

***

A dull ache wakes James the next morning, and it takes him a moment to realize he desperately has to piss. He blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes and check the clock: 5:34am. He groans softly. Only seven hours of sleep. James glances down at Q and finds the man still fast asleep. He looks so relaxed, so untroubled, and the last thing James wants to do is disturb him. Q will wake the second James is gone from the bed… but he has to  _ pee _ .

James waits two hours before the pain is too insistent for him to stay still. He eases from the bed, tucking the blanket around Q before dashing to the bathroom. He’s back in ninety seconds, and Q is already stirring. “Shhhh, I’m here,” James murmurs, slipping back under the blanket and gathering Q close again. “It’s okay.”

Q mumbles something, and James frowns. “What is it, darling?”

“Some days must be dark and dreary.”

“Why is that?”

“Dunno… read poetry when you were gone… found one… made me think of you. Of me.”

James smiles and runs his fingers through Q’s hair again. “You’ll have to show me later, okay?”

“I love you.”

“I know. Sleep. I’m here.”

And so Q does.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and comments welcome.


End file.
